Monday, January 7, 2013
Plan B. (And C.)
Someone pointed out something very interesting to me. For months Neal French has said that I was a lying lunatic who was faking this pregnancy. In fact, I believe he said he had to come down here to "deal with...lying BS". Months ago he sent his attorney an email that said I was "the type to wear someone's skin as a body suit and drive a creeper van with a couch in the back" (way to steal that one from my blog you unoriginal douche) and that he's "known OF this girl for 20+ years (back to high school) and she is capable of anything. Well...like faking a pregnancy because she is bored". But when push came to shove, when he had the chance to lay all of his cards on the table (I know right, ****uming he had any), he pussied out and claimed the court had no jurisdiction. Didn't claim he couldn't possibly be the father. Didn't elaborate on how I'm such the "danger" to his family. Didn't provide any proof that he wasn't the father. Simply pussied out.
Since he has no problem spending thousands of dollars to avoid a simple DNA test, I think he should spend a few thousand more. So I'm gonna file an appeal. That should keep him and his checkbook busy until DHS can step in in March. And since he found my mother on the internet (I ****ume to tell on me. I never quite got that.) I found his. Think I'll give her a call and tell her she's having a grandson. Which I'd be happy to prove to her, ****uming her deadbeat son ever takes his lying **** down to a lab. I swear when you have to do something the hard way, damn if a girl can't get creative.